Time, Harry was quick to realize, was more of a construct than a constant. The days were gruelingly long, and seemed never-ending at times, but the weeks seemed to blend together and meld in a way in which all of a sudden, the eve of the First Task was upon him before he even realized it.
He was as prepared for the task as he was certain he could be. Professor Jackson was not merely a good history professor, but as a charms professor as well. He broke spells down, spells that were incredibly difficult and complex, into simple terms that were easily digestible for him. Spells that would have given fully-grown wizards a difficult time, Harry had been able to cast with proficiency in a matter of only a few weeks.
That wasn't to say that Harry was going into the task with any sense of confidence. He was terrified, petrified even, of what he was going to have to do. He'd told Ron and Hermione about the First Task…
It hadn't been a fun conversation.
But his friends, bless them, once they had gotten over their shock and horror, had stepped up and supported him in ways that he didn't think he could ever thankful for. Merely having them at his side, providing a constant presence of calm and safety. It gave him a peace of mind that allowed him to approach his classes and training with a clear mind.
The Great Hall was buzzing with the excitement of the First Task. Not even the teachers seemed immune to the excitement, as the staff members seated at the head table could be seen with their heads together, excitedly whispering to one another.
Eyes landed on Harry the moment he stepped into the Hall, and the whispered conversations only seemed to grow in intensity. He did his best to ignore the whispers, and caught Cedric Diggory's eyes across the Hall as Harry approached his usual set at the Gryffindor table. The older boy gave him a shaky nod, his face ghostly white.
About a week prior, Harry had cornered the boy in the hall, and had told him what the First Task was. Maybe it wasn't fair to the other champions, but Harry didn't care. Cedric was Hogwarts' champion, its true champion, and Harry wouldn't have felt right with himself if he had sat back and allowed Cedric to go up agains the dragon unprepared.
He felt Ron force him down onto the bench along the table, and Hermione, sitting opposite Harry, began piling food onto a plate before shoving it towards him.
"Eat." She ordered, cutting off Harry's protest before he could open his mouth, "And I don't care if you're not hungry Harry, you need your strength."
"Don't fight her mate," Ron advised, "You know how she gets,"
Hermione glared at him, and Harry chuckled. He truly wasn't hungry, his stomach was a tight knot of anxiety, but Hermione was probably right. He would need to eat if he was going to be thinking well in the task. The last thing he wanted was to be going up against a fully grown dragon when he wasn't thinking clearly.
He was just finishing up with the last of his toast when he felt a shaky hand on his shoulder. Looking up, he met the eyes of Professor McGonagall. Her face was chalk-white, and Harry had only ever seen the look on her face once before, when Ginny had been taken down to the Chamber of Secrets in his second year.
"It's time, Potter." She said, sounding awfully like she was sentencing him to die. Gulping down the remnants of his toast, Harry nodded. He met the eyes of his friends, and they tried to give him reassuring smiles, but there was no hiding the trepidation on their features. Harry smiled at them, and tried to assure his friends that he would be okay, but it was difficult to convey an emotion he didn't actually believe.
"Are you prepared, Potter?" Asked Professor McGonagall in an undertone,
"As ready as I'll ever be, Professor." Said Harry,
"Jackson's prepared you well then?" She asked, and Harry's eyes went round as his face drained of color, "Oh don't loot at me like that, Potter." Professor McGonagall admonished, "Everyone in the Tournament is cheating. It's an unwritten rule, now answer the question."
Gulping, Harry nodded his head, Professor Jackson has been helping me since my name came out of the Goblet, we have a good plan, I think."
Professor McGonagall nodded, her lips a thin line. "Jackson is…exceptionally qualified to be teaching you. If he is confident, which I should assure you that he is, then you have my confidence as well Potter." She paused as the exited the castle onto the grounds. Students were beginning to filter out of the castle and out onto the castle grounds. Down near the lake, a large structure had been erected that looked like a giant colosseum. Students chattered excitedly as they pushed past Harry and Professor McGonagall.
They continued in silence along the castle grounds, before finally coming up to a large tent that was attached to the coliseum.
"Potter," Professor McGonagall said, looking uncharacteristically somber, "I don't tell my students this nearly often enough, but know that I am very proud of you. I know this situation…it hasn't been easy for you. I'm proud of how you've been handling this."
"Thank you, Professor," Harry said, feeling a little choked up at the unusual display of candor from the normally taciturn woman. She nodded thickly at him, before prodding him gently through the tent flaps and into the cloth structure.
He looked around quickly, but was rather disappointed that he wasn't able to spot Professor Jackson. Though he supposed he shouldn't have been surprised, not even Professor McGonagall was apparently let in and she was the Deputy Headmistress for the school.
Madam Maxine was having a quiet conversation with Fleur in the corner in rapid French. Karkaroff appeared to be trying to engage Krum in conversation, but the older boy appeared to be completely ignoring his headmaster. Cedric, meanwhile, was pacing a worried hole in the floor.
Suddenly, his vision was obscured by a mess of straw-colored hair, and a mess of makeup.
"Harry!" Crooned Rita Skeeter happily, and Harry bit back a groan. Professor Jackson had warned him that something like this might happen. The man still hadn't explained his seeming hatred of the woman, not that Harry didn't understand from the few articles he'd read of hers, but he had told Harry that sooner or later Rita would corner Harry when Professor Jackson wasn't around. Apparently that day was today.
"Hello Ms. Skeeter," Harry sighed, looking over her shoulder in the hopes of catching Dumbledore's eye and hopefully finding an out for the situation.
"We didn't get much of a chance to speak to one another the other day." Said Skeeter, "We still have some time before the start of the task, care to give your rabid readers a little insight into what makes the Boy-Who-Lived is thinking about all of this?"
"Professor Jackson told me to tell him if you asked to interview me without a barrister." Said Harry, thinking quickly. "He also told me that I should talk to him if you tried to interview me by myself so I'll just go grab him and-"
"We can schedule this for another time," said Skeeter quickly, before she all but disappeared into thin air, vanishing through the exit to the tent.
Laughing to himself, Harry's attention was drawn to the center of the room as Professor Dumbledore stepped up and cleared his throat. The soft chatter of the tent fell to the wayside, and an air of tension descended on them all.
"The time…has come." Said Dumbledore. The man certainly had a flair for the dramatic, Harry thought to himself, as a flutter of anxiety constricted his chest.
"Champions, gather around as Mr. Crouch explains the goal of the task set before you."
The four champions all shuffled forward, as Mr. Crouch came into the small circle of witches and wizards, a small bag held tightly in his grip. Harry noted idly, that Mr. Crouch looked even more pale and sickly than Harry had last seen the man. He was perspiring, which was odd considering how cool it was on the grounds.
"Each of you, reach into the bag, and grab hold of your task." He said tremulously, holding the bag out to Krum.
Grunting, with a sour look on his face, the burly boy reached into the bag, where a number of strange hissing and screeching sounds were emanating, and grabbed hold of something inside. When he pulled his hand out, clutched tightly in his fingers, was a fierce-looking, miniature dragon. Attached to its neck was a small chain with the number three on it.
"The Chinese Fireball…" Crouch said softly. Krum didn't even react, as he stared down at the small dragon. Judging from the expression on both his and Fleur's face, Harry had been right that both of them also knew what the First Task would entail.
Fleur was next, and she drew the Common Welsh-Green and she would be going second. Cedric, his hand trembling somewhat, reached in and grabbed the Swedish Short-Snout, the poor lad was going to be the first tackle his dragon. Harry gulped heavily, he knew what the fourth dragon would be. Ron's brother, Charlie, had written to Ron that he was part of the team that was transporting the dragons and after discovering Harry had been entered into the tournament had told Ron which dragons would be coming.
Harry cursed his bad luck, it would have been him that ended up with the nastiest of the batch. He idly wondered if Voldemort had somehow cursed him to make this happen.
He hissed in pain as he felt the little bastard sink its miniature fangs into the palm of his hand. Wrapping the dragon tightly in his fist, he pulled the Hungarian Horntail out of the pouch. He barely registered it as Crouch explained that their task was to retrieve a golden egg from the mother dragon. Harry was focusing his attention on the evil little creature in the palm of his hand.
A wave of determination flowed through him.
Voldemort wanted him to die? Then he would be sorely disappointed.
For the next hour and half, Harry was forced to sit and listen to Ludo Bagman narrate the other students as they tackled their dragon. But Harry was barely paying any attention to it. He was too caught up in running through the plan over and over again in his head.
Cast the disillusionment.
Cast the blood-freezing.
Cast silent-step, a spell that muffled the sound of his walking.
Disillusion the egg.
Book it to the exit.
Over and over again, he ran through the plan in his head, his hand miming through the wand motions as he did so. The world was a blur of white-noise, and he paid no mind to the trickle of students as they walked out.
Finally, Harry was the last remaining student in the tent, and the canon roared in the background, signaling that it was his time to enter the arena.
His heart was oddly calm as he stood and walked out of the tent. Perhaps it was the multiple horrific situations that he'd been in over the years, maybe he was just confident, it was difficult to say. But his pulse was slow, and his mind was clear. The sound of the cheering crowd grew louder as he approached, and it felt strangely as though he weren't walking out to face down a dragon, but instead as though he were walking out onto the pitch for a quidditch match.
That thought calmed him even more. His nerves had never been more in check than when he was walking into a match. It was comforting to think of it like that. He had to shield his eyes as he walked out into the arena, the sun was shinning bright over head, and the cloudless sky made the rays blinding.
The arena was odd. It was like the stands had been built alongside the top of a mountain. Charcoal rocks were strew across the uneven terrain, and bordering along the edges of the arena were enormous spectator stands. It was one of the biggest crowds that he had ever seen, second only to the World Cup that summer. A cacophony of cheers, boos, and hisses greeted him as he appeared, which were drowned out by the voice of Ludo Bagman, magnified over the din.
"And our last contestant; the youngest, mysterious fourth champion, arrives onto the battlefield! How will Harry Potter fare against the mightiest of foes, the dastardly Hungarian Horntail!"
As though to punctuate that statement, a tremendous roar split across the air. For the first time, Harry caught the sight of the dragon. It was enormous. Roughly the size of a small house, it black scales shined in the light from the sun, reflecting and refracting off of the many spikes around its neck and talons. The signature feature, from which the creature drew its namesake, was the most stunning of all. As thick, coiled tail, barbed like a spiked club, smacked the ground in a rage at the sight of Harry. Rocks, dust, and debris flew into the air, as the dragon let loose another ear-splitting roar.
The sound jolted Harry into action. Muscle-memory took control as his arm began weaving the necessary motions to cast his spell. He hadn't even remembered drawing his wand. The spell took effect exactly as Harry had known that it would. The familiar feeling of egg dripping down the back of his neck signaled that the spell took effect. He didn't waste a moment however, and he as soon as the spell had been cast his wand was trailing a new path as he cast the blood-freezing charm and muffled-steps charms. His feet tingled, as a cooling freeze danced along his arms and legs. Both spells took effect perfectly.
"Would you look at that!" Cheered Bagman excitedly, "The youngest champion has certainly stunned us all with an incredibly complex magical chain! If my eyes are correct it would appear he's disillusioned himself and cast a blood-freezing charm! My word, I don't think any of us were expecting this from the young Mr. Potter!"
Harry took a few tentative footsteps forward, wanting to test the waters and make sure that the plan was working. The dragon didn't even look his way, distracted as it was with the overwhelming sights and sounds of the stadium. Fighting not to smile, he didn't want to become overconfident, Harry began to move forward at a slow and deliberate pace. While his footsteps were muffled, he didn't want to accidentally knock over a loose pebble and draw the dragon's attention his way.
"My word, what an impressive display we are seeing from Mr. Potter! I don't know many fully-trained witches or wizards who could have cast a disillusionment charm as thorough as the one we are witnessing here today! I can't even see the boy!"
Harry grit his teeth. He didn't know if dragons could understand English, but he didn't trust his luck enough to believe they couldn't. The last thing he wanted was for the dragon to hear Bagman talking, and start to get curious.
He nearly stopped breathing as he got close to the dragon. The Horntail smelled like burning wood and charcoal as he got near, and he could see the thickly corded muscles of its neck ungulate as it breathed. Its massive maw opened, revealing rows of teeth nearly a meter long. He hadn't seen anything like it since the Basilisk.
Only there would be no Fawks this time.
Doubling down on his determination, Harry continued making his way towards the nest on the other side of the dragon. He could see the golden egg, standing out like a beacon, in the middle of the nest. The tail of the dragon was curled protectively around the nest. Harry sucked in a breath as he side-stepped away from the tail and into the nest.
For the first time since arriving in the arena, he felt his heart begin to beat just a little bit faster. Pulling his wand free, he reached out and tapped the edge of the egg with his wand, as he channeled his magic and attempted to disillusion the egg.
But nothing happened.
Frowning, as panic began to creep up inside of him, he tried to cast the spell again, but once more, nothing happened.
He nearly cursed.
The egg must have been enchanted in some way to prevent magic from being used on it. His mind raced as he tried to come up with an idea. He couldn't simply grab the egg and run, the dragon would surely see him and he didn't think he could outrun a dragon. An idea sprang to mind, and he decided to simply go with it. He didn't think he would have any time to go through with any kind of a backup plan, and he didn't want to spend any more time in the nest than was strictly necessary.
Whirling around, Harry pointed his wand as far away from both him and the exit as possible. With a minor application of magic, his blasting curse raced through the air and connected with a small pile of boulders across the arena. The boulders exploded violently, and a number of people in the stands screamed in surprise at the sudden eruption.
The dragon fell for the bait, as it roared in anger and surprise. It reared back on its haunches and let loose a torrent of white-hot flames from deep within. There were more screams of terror from the stands, but it all ebbed away and Harry tuned it out as best as he could.
Using the distraction to his advantage, he pointed his wand at the chunk of rock underneath the egg, and levitated it. The rock creaked and groaned as it rose into the air, the egg perched precariously on top of it. Lifting the egg up, Harry applied a sticking charm to the rock and slammed the egg back down on top of it. He didn't know if that would work, but he certainly hoped it would. He then pointed his wand at the egg, and screamed inside his mind.
"Velocitas Momentum!"
The rock and the egg tore off like a rocket, streaking across the sky so fast that it was little more than a golden blur. As soon as the spell had been cast, Harry had taken off at a run.
"And Harry Potter makes his move! Heavens above I didn't even see him get to the nest! And now look at him go!"
Harry tried to ignore Bagman as he darted across the ground, scrambling over rocks and boulders as quickly as he could. He just managed to make it over a large boulder when he felt the heat of the flames of the Horntail slam into the rock he was hiding behind.
"Has Mr. Potter's luck run out? It would appear as though his disillusionment charm has finally failed him and the Horntail has him in its sights! What will he do now?"
"Shut. Up." Harry growled to himself.
He spared a quick glance across the arena and saw that the egg had landed near the egg, only a few dozen yards away from where he was sitting. He needed to get the dragon off of him, and he didn't see any other option than to trust in Professor Jackson's training. A gasp of shock tore through the air, and Harry's body reacted on instinct. He dove away from the rock, landing painfully against the mountainous terrain and scraping his arms and legs as he fell. A large shattering sound shook the earth behind him. Turning on his back, Harry saw that the Horntail had lifted its namesake and slammed into the rock Harry had only just been hiding behind, smashing it to smithereens.
The dragon had reared back up on its haunches, and Harry could see that the flames bubbling up inside the monster's belly. Acting on instinct, Harry raised his wand and fired off the most powerful blasting curse he could muster. The training with Professor Jackson had paid off in spades, as the spell collided with the dragon right under its jaw. The dragon let out a howl of misery and pain, but Harry didn't bother watching the carnage unfold. As soon as he saw the spell connect, he was back on his feet and running. His lungs burning, and his blood pounding in his ears, he scooped the egg up off of the ground in both hands and with one final effort, he dove through the exit, landing painfully on the ground.
The colosseum erupted. Harry didn't know if he had ever heard any stadium at Hogwarts make the kind of noise that was coming from the arena at that moment. Though, if he were honest, Harry wasn't paying too close attention the noise. They could have been calling out for his blood for all he knew. A pair of thick hands reached down and grabbed him around the hem of his robes and hauled Harry to his feet.
"Knew you had it in you, kid," said a beaming Professor Jackson, "Hell of a job on the improve out there Potter, and that shot at the end, the one that hit the horntail in the throat?" Professor Jackson blew out a low whistle, "Thing of absolute beauty kid. C'mon, you gotta head up to the medical tent."
"Am I hurt?" Asked Harry, as he glanced down to look for any obvious injuries, the adrenaline was still flooding his system and he couldn't feel much of anything at the moment.
"Nah," said Professor Jackson, waving off the concern, "But it's the rule the Committee made, you gotta get checked out real quick." Professor Jackson placed a hand on Harry's shoulder and began driving him towards the medical tent. Harry hadn't been paying much attention to what was happening to the other students, and was surprised to see that Cedric was looking rather worse for wear. Half of his face was covered in a strange orange, gelatinous substance, and his robes were badly singed.
"Well done Harry," winced Cedric around a half-smile and half-grimace.
"Thanks, you doing all right?" Asked Harry,
"Better now," Sighed Cedric, "Did all right at the start, but then I got a little careless and got a little too much of an up close and personal view of dragonfire." He winced again, "God am I glad that Hagrid never managed to get his hands on a dragon," He muttered, and Harry laughed nervously. Before any more could be said, however, Madam Pomfrey came up to him and ushered him over to a nearby bed. After a brief look over of Harry, he was deemed to not have suffered any more than a few cuts and scrapes from when he'd fallen on the rocks.
She gave Harry a healing salve for the scrapes, before bustling back over to Cedric, who had been speaking to Professor Jackson in hushed tones. Madam Pomfrey tried to push Professor Jackson aside, but he was one of the few that seemed immune to her charms.
"Harry!" Cried a new voice, as the flaps to the tent opened and a very pale-looking Sirius sprinted into the tent. He had a wild look in his eyes, as though he was torn between petrification and beaming pride. He stopped just short, and scanned Harry up and down,
"You doing all right kid?" He asked worriedly, and Harry nodded, before he was pulled into a bone-breaking hug. "Gods be good, I don't know whether I should buy you a broom or beat you to death. Never been so bloody worried in my life."
"Sorry," Harry grunted, it was hard to breath with how hard Sirius was squeezing him. After another moment, Sirius relinquished his grip on Harry, and smiled down at him.
"Not your fault, kid. I'm incredibly proud of you Harry. You were phenomenal out there. Lily and James…they'd hate that you're in this position, but they'd be unbelievably proud of how you performed."
Harry beamed at that.
With Sirius, Ron, Hermione, and Professor Jackson at his side, Harry felt as though he could take on the world.
BREAK
As it turned out, the judges had, for the most part, agreed with Sirius about Harry's performance. With the exception of Karkaroff, Harry had scored exceptionally well. As it was, he had ended up tied with Krum for the lead in points in the tournament.
The party in the Gryffindor Common Room had been more raucous than any other Harry could remember. While parts of the school had seemed reticent to believe that Harry was innocent in his putting his name in Goblet, Gryffindor House was more than happy to celebrate Harry's success.
Fred and George, after disappearing for a few hours, had returned to the Common Room with their arms full of butterbeer, sweets, and snacks. The party went on until late in the evening, when Professor McGonagall finally put an end to the fun. However Harry's night did not end with the party, as Professor McGonagall had pulled Harry aside and informed him that he had been requested in Dumbledore's office.
It was well-past midnight by the time that Harry got to the Headmaster's office, and while he was physically exhausted, a surge of energy had shot through him as he sat down beside Professor Jackson across from Dumbledore.
"I wanted to congratulate you, Harry," said Dumbledore, "You performed exceptionally well today. You have handled this situation with a poise that I would not expect from wizards double your age. I'm very proud of you."
In spite of Harry's reservations about the man, he still smiled at the praise.
"Thank you, sir," said Harry meaningfully, "But I wouldn't have been able to do it without Professor Jackson's instruction."
Professor Jackson snorted, "I appreciate it Harry, but don't sell yourself short. You worked hard, you were driven. It's not a sin to feel proud of yourself for working hard."
Harry beamed at the professor,
"Now then," said Dumbledore, "We do have some business we need to address. Perseus has told me of what you told me of Professor Moody, Perseus?" Prompted Dumbledore,
"Definitely using polyjuice," said Professor Jackson, "I snuck in the other night and poked around his stores. Whoever that man is, it isn't Alastor Moody."
Harry had questions about how Professor Jackson had been able to sneak up on someone like Moody, or rather whoever was impersonating him. Harry was still unsure about why Professor Jackson couldn't just arrest the man, but if Professor Jackson didn't think they should at the moment, then that was enough for Harry.
Dumbledore sighed, and took his glasses off and rubbed tiredly at his eyes.
"I don't suppose you found anything that would indicate where Alastor is? Or if he is even still alive?" Asked Dumbledore.
A tight knot formed in Harry's stomach at the question. He wasn't unaware of the reality for their situation, on a subconscious level he was aware of the stakes, but to hear Dumbledore speak so casually about the death of someone else was disconcerting.
"He has a large chest in the corner of the room that's more than a little suspect," explained Professor Jackson, "But I have nothing on that front."
Dumbledore nodded, and replaced the glasses, "For the immediate future, we will operate under the assumption that Alastor is no longer with us. Perseus, I will defer to your expertise on the matter, what do you believe should be our next move."
"Part of me still wants to bring him in," admitted Professor Jackson, "I know that risks bringing Voldemort into the light, but I'm confident that I can manipulate things so that Voldemort had any idea that we were poking holes in his plan."
"I believe you, Perseus," conceded Dumbledore, "But I do not believe that it would change much of anything."
"How do you mean?" Asked Professor Jackson,
"If we are operating under the assumption that Voldemort really did create a Horcrux out of his diary, then I do not believe that he can be stopped, not right now at any rate."
Professor Jackson's eyes narrowed, "Explain," he prompted.
"Think, Perseus," chided Dumbledore, "Do you truly believe that if Voldemort created one Horcrux, that he would have simply stopped at one? That a man willing to go to such extremes to stave off death, a man willing to commit such an unspeakable sin would not go to greater lengths."
"Fuck," said Professor Jackson, leaning back in his chair with his hands behind his head, "He definitely made more of these damn things." Grunting, Professor Jackson leaned forward and rested on the edge of the desk, "All right, I think I know what you're getting at. Even if we go after Moody, it won't matter because at the end of the day, we still don't know how to kill the bastard. But I still think that it's a good idea. Even if we can't kill the bastard, we can still ruin his plans for a while. We still don't know for certain what he wants Harry for, but whatever it is, it can't be good. If he wants Harry, then we sure as hell don't want him getting his hands on Harry."
"Then all of this would have been for nothing," said Dumbledore,
"Which was why I was against the idea in the first place," said Professor Jackson bitterly. Dumbledore sighed wearily,
"Perhaps you were correct, Perseus," conceded Dumbledore, "But I suppose it is too late to back out of this now. Not that we could have stopped this from happening in the first place,"
"True," admitted Professor Jackson, "Didn't know that Moody wasn't Moody until Harry came to me about it."
"Then you suggest that we act now?" Asked Dumbledore,
"I do." Said Professor Jackson, "If we go now, then at least we might get an idea of what Voldemort wants. If nothing else, then we find out how he plans on getting Harry to Voldemort, what his orders were."
Dumbledore sighed again, and he leaned back in his desk. Harry felt his heart start to race a little, the prospect of something happening so abruptly excited him, even if the situation as far from ideal.
"Do it." Dumbledore ordered.
Professor Jackson smirked, and before anything else could be said, Professor Jackson disappeared in a veil of water.
"How does he do that," wondered Harry, "I always thought you couldn't apparate on the school's grounds?"
Dumbledore chuckled, "You'll find, Harry, that Perseus can do many things that others would claim to be…impossible." He let the conversation die out there. Harry was suddenly struck that they were sitting casually and comfortably, as Professor Jackson was supposedly kidnapping a man out of his sleep.
There was another burst of mist-like water vapor and Professor Jackson reappeared in the office. A body was slung casually over his shoulder. He was dressed like Professor Moody, but it was most certainly not the man that had been teaching Harry for the last few months. Professor Jackson unceremoniously dumped the man on the floor of the office.
"Oh my…" Whispered Dumbledore as he stared down at the unconscious man on the floor.
"You know him?" Asked Professor Jackson, and Dumbledore nodded,
"This…is problematic," said Dumbledore, looking up to meet Professor Jackson's curious gaze,
"That's Bartemius Crouch Jr….and he's supposed to be dead."
As always shoutout to Double0Sxvxn for being an awesome Beta and dealing with my bullshit and as always if you enjoyed this but haven't checked out my other work, give them a try you never know you might find something else you like. I'm also on discord now, where I and a bunch of other writers hang out, chat and brainstorm ideas, you just have to copy the link that's in my profile bio if you want to come and hang out with us. Stay safe, stay healthy and have an awesome week.
All My Love and see you next week,
LilDB